iHate You
by FeigningInterest
Summary: There's so many little things that I hate about him... There's so many little things that I hate about her... Like his hair. Like her shoes. SEDDIE.


_This story has been on my computer since the second episode of iCarly. I've changed some things around and added a bit, but it's the same story it was way back then… I wonder if I can find anymore on my old desktop… I actually think this was written before Heath Ledger died…)= that's sad._

_Disclaimer: check all the other disclaimers. This one isn't any different. Except it may have flying ninja monkeys. If you look hard enough you'll see them. (To the dimmer people, that's a joke. There's no ACTUAL ninja monkey. I don't own them either. Poem from __**10 Things I Hate About You**__.)_

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* * *

_

"Move geek," Sam says, pushing me out of the way of her locker.

I scowl at her, but she doesn't notice or care. Knowing Sam, it's probably both.

"Stop calling me 'geek.' It's getting old."

I watch her roll her eyes, a stupid little smile tugging at her lips. "Fine, Fredward, I'll try to stop calling you 'geek.'"

I raise an eyebrow at her. "Really?"

I hear her chuckle from behind her locker door and my heart sinks. She's been a great pain since I started iCarly a good three years ago. I watch her peek her head around the corner of her locker door, trying desperately to contain that wicked little grin of hers.

"No."

"**I Hate The Way You Talk To Me," **I say, trying my best to sound nearly as tough as Sam.

* * *

I watch Freddie from my seat in the cafeteria, displeased. He's standing in the lunch line with a huge doofus-looking grin across his face. His hair's ruffled and matted with what looks like dust. I bet he's been making out with that girlfriend of his in a random janitor's closet. That's unappetizing even for _me_.

I watch Freddie run a hand through his hair and notice something odd about him. The mama's boy cut I'm used to has grown out into something very… _un_-Freddie. It's longer now, forming some sort of fringe- like bang thing that falls into his eyes.

It's the same medium blahish brown color it's always been, but for some reason it seems to attract the light more. It's eerie how _perfect_ his hair is. I scoff, stabbing the undefined lunchmeat crap with my flimsy plastic spork.

"Hey, Carly!" Freddie says cheerfully. I look up in time to see his expression shift when he turns to me. "…And Sam."

"What's up with you, Freddie?" inquires Carly.

"Me and Jen have an anniversary date tonight. It's been _three whole months_."

Is he serious? That's really sad. Now I _know_ I can't eat anything. Freddie's triggered my subtle gagging reflex. This means I don't choke, but vile rises into my throat anyway. I down my water bottle and stab my spork into the meat one last time. The spork snaps, sending a piece of itself and a piece of the unidentifiable lunchmeat with it.

I watch as the pieces land humorously in Freddie's hair.

"Sam!" Freddie barks, "What was that for? I haven't even said anything to you!"

Despite the angry looks from both Carly and Freddie, and the trouble this may get me into with said friends, I laugh. Because it's _really_ funny. "It was an accident, Fredward, I swear!"

"Stop calling me 'Fredward.' You're a total jerk. I hate that about you."

"Yeah, well I hate how you can't take a joke…" A slight scarlet taints my vision. **"And I Hate The Way You Cut Your Hair."**

**

* * *

**

"Slow down, Sam! You're going to die. Actually, we're _both_ gonna die!"

I am royally pissed right now, and I doubt my foot could be pressed harder against the gas pedal.

My vision blurs and I slow the car down as we approach an exit. I turn onto the highway, this being an excuse to drive faster, and start on my way home.

"Sam?" says Freddie, his hand placed on my shoulder. "Pull in here, okay."

I look over and frown. "I don't want to go to a park, Freddie."

His hand tightens, and I do what he asks. He glances over, his mouth pressed into a line. "You're scaring me, Sam."

"I have that affect on people." My voice cracks and we're pulling into the parking lot.

Finding a spot, I park Freddie's car and hastily unbuckle and get out. I walk ahead of him, tears welling in my eyes and pooling out over my cheeks.

"Let's go to the swings," he says from behind me. I nod and walk towards them.

Thirty minutes of swinging and silence has passed, and I feel just as bad as I had before.

"Sam? What's wrong?" I jump, a little startled by his speaking up.

"He dumped me." It was so easy to say. I didn't love him, nor did I love the idea of him. I've been contemplating dumping him myself for the past few weeks. I just didn't expect him to beat me to the punch. Losing Paul, my boyfriend, isn't that big of a deal to me. It's just the _reason_ he gave me. The reason he wanted out...

"That's it? Sam, he's a jerk. You know you can do better."

"That's not it." My voice cracks again, "He dumped me for _Jen_. They've been fooling around for the past _year_."

I watch his face fall and for a minute I think he doesn't believe me. For a minute I _wish _he didn't believe me.

"Why does that upset _you,_ though?"

I look at him - the first time today I've been able to hold eye contact with anyone - and reply, "You're one of my _best friends_. I didn't want to see you get hurt."

I watch his eyes glaze over into an expression I can't quite comprehend. "_You_ were worried about _me_?"

He pauses and tears his eyes from mine. When he looks back up, he's the old Freddie again. "Sam, you were dumped by a guy you've been with _for a year and a half_, and you're worried about his secret lover's boyfriend? That's not like you."

I rub my temple. "I was getting fed up with him anyway, and it didn't really hurt me. I just thought you loved Jen, and that it would… you know… break you."

"No regular girl can break Freddie," he says jokingly. "I was planning on breaking up with Jen a few days ago anyway. You don't have to worry about me, Sam. I'm a big boy now." He chuckles, sending familiar warmth through my icy heart. "My mom worries about my well-being enough as it is."

I smile. "I've always hated your comfort speeches. You really suck at them. You just babble on and on."

"If you wanna play it that way," he says, returning my smile and nudging me in the arm. **"I Hate The Way You Drive My Car."**

**

* * *

**

I'm sitting in the library, yes the library, studying for the first time in, I think forever. We have a midterm coming up, and if I can't ace this test then I'm screwed. Like "going to be thirty-four when I graduate" screwed. I need at least a C in this class to pass.

"Sam?" Great. That's exactly what I need: a geek to pester and poke fun at me.

"What, Freddie?" I don't look up from the book I'm reading.

"You're in the _library_. I'm kinda scared."

I roll my eyes and look up at the smirking little nerd. "If I don't study, I'll fail. I would really like to get out of here before I turn thirty."

"Need help? I had American Lit last semester."

I'm a little taken aback by this offer of his. He hates me, or so he's told me on countless occasions, most of them involving me pantsing him. Is there some sort of prize for him? Does he get a new bike for helping the slow students? Maybe it's one of those "ha ha I'm smarter than you and this is me proving it" kind of shtick.

"Sam?" He's looking at me oddly, and it makes me shift in my seat a little.

"It's okay, I think I've got it."

He continues looking at me with the same strange look. "Don't be stubborn, Sam. You said it yourself; if you don't pass this you'll fail. I can help."

I look back down at the book, considering a life like Hemingway's. Lonely, drunken, creating my art with the scraps of someone's greater than mine. I sigh, "Fine. Just don't look at me like that."

He tilts his head a little and raises an eyebrow at me. "Look at you like what?"

"I don't know… it's just creepy," I say, a subtle blush making its way onto my cheeks.** "I Hate It When You Stare."**

**

* * *

**

I can't believe this. One minute she's gluing macaroni to my face and the next she's kicking the crap out of a guy twice her size for pushing me into a locker. Does she not know the amount of torture this will ensue? She has NO IDEA how much crap I'll get for having _a girl_, especially _Sam_, fight my battles for me.

I bury my head in my locker, trying my best to hide the shame of the situation. After a good ten minutes of brawling from Sam and the scary bully I hear a rather loud thud against the lockers next to me, and a whimper that sounds a lot like… well… Sam.

I remove my head from the locker and look over. I spot her piled against the bottom row, the bully about ten seconds away from kicking her again.

Some sort of wicked adrenaline seeps into me, making me strong. I charge at the stupid tormentor, taking him down in a tackle.

"What's going on here?" All three of us look towards the teacher.

"He was about to attack my friend." I sigh a lie, praying that this stranger will believe me.

"Toby Delroy, escort yourself to the office immediately! As for the both of you, go to class! And no more tomfoolery!"

I nod, looking over at Sam. "You okay?"

I hear the teacher storm away slamming the door to her classroom shut behind her. "Jeez. She's as bad as Briggs."

Sam looks up at me, her eyes lighter than usual - a look I'm not used to from her. A look even scarier than her deadliest glares. I've never seen Sam look so _defeated_ like this before. My hand twitches and urges me to touch her face. But through past experience with Sam almost killing me, I decide against it.

"Nothing's as bad as Briggs." Sam smiles, the fretfulness still lingering in her eyes.

"That was one creep, huh?" I say lightly. "What started the fight?"

Sam looks down again, stray tears making her eyes gleam. "He was making fun of a friend of mine."

"Sam… that's… Thank you, ya know, for defending me… again." I watch her smile, for real this time. "Come on, let's get out of here."

Sam ogles me. "Ditching school, geek? That's the first step to lackadaisicalness."

I help her up and wince at her huge shoes landing painfully on my feet.

"Ops. Sorry, Freddie."

"Ugh." I put on a face I'm sure will make Sam laugh and say,** "I Hate Your Big Dumb Combat Boots."**

**

* * *

**

"Don't even think about it, geek."

My eyes meet Sam's, a little startled. "You _don't_ know what I'm thinking."

"Yes I do. You want to look over at Jen and Paul to see if they're having fun."

"How do you know?"

"It's written all over your face, and parts of your neck and arms."

We're in line at the Groovy Smoothie; waiting for the lady in front of us to finally decide what shake she wants. I thought I was the first one to spot Paul and Jen, but I guess I wasn't - seeing as Sam just mentioned them being here together.

"Whatever, Sam."

"Whatever yourself. I thought you didn't like her anymore anyway."

I sigh, knowing she's right. Honestly, I don't like Jen anymore. I haven't thought of Jen since I broke up with her three months ago. I'm just wary of the fact that she's here with Paul, and I'm afraid that'll make things awkward for Sam.

"I don't. It's just…"

"Awkward?" She says, speaking the words in my head again.

"Wow, out of all the things that I find repugnant about you is that haughty persona…"

"_Repugnant? Persona?_ 'Word of the day calendars' much?"

I ignore her, continuing what I had been saying.** "…And The Way You Read My Mind."**

**

* * *

**

This has to have been the worst prank Sam's ever played on me. I can't believe she'd do that to me. What kind of a monster is she? Did she really think this was going to be funny? That I'd just laugh with her after I figured out it wasn't actually happening? I knew she was a good liar, I just didn't know she was _this_ good.

"Freddie, come on!" she calls to me from the window outside the fire escape I'm sitting on, acting like I'm overreacting. "What's the big deal? It was only a joke."

"Sam, I've been doing iCarly for the past, I don't know, four years. You can't just…"

"Do you really think we'd replace you with Shane?"

"Knowing you! Jeeze, I'm surprised you didn't try to replace me with a tuna fish sandwich!"

Sam fell silent. Something I wish she would have done years ago. I turn away from her, trying to collect myself.

"We were getting along. We've been getting along for _months_, Sam. I was starting to think of you as a friend."

"You still can think of me as a friend. I like having you as a friend."

"That's crap, and you know it!" I spit venom at her, letting off pent up frustrations she's given me over the past years. "The only reason any of your friends tolerate you is because they feel sorry for you."

"_Sorry for me_? Sorry about what?" Sam looks at me blankly, and I smile inwardly, knowing that I'm winning this time.

"You know why. It's because your dad's dead, and your mom's a nut case."

I watch Sam, tears welling in the corners of her eyes - knowing I should stop, knowing that she doesn't deserve this - but I'm still angry, and a part of me wants to walk up to her, wrap my arms around her and apologize. But my body won't let me move. All I can do is watch her move closer to the open window.

"I hate you," Sam croaks, tears pooling in her eyes, spilling over her cheeks.** "I Hate You So Much It Makes Me Sick."**

**

* * *

**

I've decided to take a few sick days off from school. It seems like something I would do, right? Yeah, well. I'm glad my school skipping is something in my normal motif. Me letting Mr. Geek extraordinaire see me cry, let alone _make_ me cry, is grounds enough for a few sick days.

_Ding Dong. _

Ugh. The doorbell. I don't want to move right now; I'm wallowing in my own sullied reputation here. "Come in! I think it's unlocked!"

The door creaks open. "Surprise."

I look over at Freddie, annoyed. "What kind of surprise? Birthday or Pearl Harbor?" I smile inwardly to myself; I got that from a TV show I like. The character that said it, Mary, reminds me of myself. You know the type- blonde and biting.

"I wanted to apologize. About three million times. I was a complete jerk. I'm really sorry, Sam, I shouldn't have said what I did…"

"Whatever, Freddie," I say, looking back over at the door.

"I really want to make it up to you," says a discontented Freddie.

"How?" asks a somewhat more contented me.

"Name something and I'll do it."

I decide to be a good friend, and you know, prove him wrong. "Watch TV with me."

"Is that it?" he asks me, cautiously.

"That's it. I promise there'll be no fits, no hits, nothing dangerous or cantankerous."

"Um… Sam?" Freddie raises an eyebrow at me.

"Yeah?" I return the gesture.

"You, um, rhymed there. Did you mean to do that?"

"No…" I look away from Freddie, and towards the TV, contemplating how weird that was.

I guess I hate him so much it makes me crazy… well… **It Even Makes Me Rhyme.**

**

* * *

**

"That's not it!"

"Yes it is, Sam!"

I sigh, frustrated out of my mind. We've spent the last thirty minutes arguing over how Lilly Allen spells her first name. I think it has two 'l's', whilst geekface thinks it has one.

"It's L-i-l-y, Sam," Freddie says, indignantly.

"No, it's not!"

I watch him rake his fingers through his hair. His eyes beaming a frustrated look my way. This makes me smile, of course. Why wouldn't it? After all, I love torturing Freddie.

He looks over at me and sighs. "Can you please just admit you're wrong Sam? This way when you find out I'm right you won't be all embarrassed."

I scoff, picking something off the table and flinging it at him.

"Sam! That could have given me a concussion!"

I look at him and laugh. "It was a pair of Spencer's blinking socks, for fatcake's sake."

"So?" He returns my chuckle and stands up. "I'll prove it only has one L."

I roll my eyes and watch him walk over to the computer. He types in the name of some random and popular search site. "Lily Allen" comes up as the correct spelling of her name.

Crap.

I feel my cheeks turn red so I walk away from the computer. Indignantly showing defeat through my faltering nonchalance.

"You know," I say, sitting with a huff on the couch.** "I Hate The Way You're Always Right."**

**

* * *

**

I watch the principle escort a fuming Sam from the hallway and into his office. Sam had an altercation with her lab partner, and her lab partner ended up in the hospital with a broken nose.

She'll deny it, of course. That's what she always does. She tries to lie her way out of all the messes she waddles into. I walk to my locker and head for the benches outside to wait for my mom to pick me up.

"Freddie." About fifteen minutes had passed and I turn around, staring the troublemaker straight in the face.

"Hey, Sam," I say in the same annoyed tone I used to address her with.

She eyes me, a hint of something sad in her eyes. "What I do now?"

I roll my eyes and sigh. "If you act like an idiot, Sam, I'll treat you like an idiot."

"What are you talking about? I didn't even do anything."

"You punched your lab partner three times in the face. That's doing something, Sam!"

She flings her arms in the air, perturbed, and sits beside of me on the bench. "She deserved it."

"No she didn't Sam!"

"How do you know? You weren't even there!"

I look away from her, towards the parking lot, anticipating my mother arriving. "No one deserves to be humiliated like you humiliated her."

Sam glares at me, her eyes either glazing in anger or in desperation. Knowing Sam, it's most likely her being livid. "You haven't even met the girl, and here you are, taking her side over mine."

"Sam, there's two sides to this situation. There's the good side, the girl in the hospital, and there's the bad side - you."

"Whatever. I was suspended, by the way.

I look at her, trying to pour as much shame into my expression as I could. "You deserve it. You _should_ be expelled."

"So, you don't care about why I hit her? You're not even a little bit curious?"

Actually, I sort of am. I mean, she's given every excuse in the book so far - this time she may have to get a little original.

"Spill. Why'd you break that girl's face?"

"She said my mom…"

"Shut up, Sam." Ugh. Now I'm the one angry. Now she's using her mother as a gateway to get out of grief? Is she really that selfish? That's low, even for someone like Sam.

"You just told me to tell you!"

"No, I told you to tell me the truth! And that's not it!"

I hear my mother calling from the parking lot, and I turn to leave.

Sam calls after me with a deflated tone, "I hate that holier-than-thou crap you're trying to pull."

I shake my head, not even bothering to turn around.** "I Hate It When You Lie."**

**

* * *

**

iCarly this week was monumentally awkward. I no longer want anything to do with Freddie. Okay, that's a lie. The truth is Freddie no longer wants anything to do with me. So I'm pretending to share his sentiment.

"Carly! I have an idea for next week's show." I watch Freddie walk over to Carly, tripping on a wire, splattering himself across the floor.

I watch Freddie, tight lipped, trying my best not to laugh.

Carly shoots me a warning glare after hearing me chuckle. I avert my eyes, suddenly finding my best friend's glower completely unsettling. I cross my arms and lean further into the beanbag chair.

"Sam," Carly calls to me, "Why are you sulking?"

Freddie looks up at Carly from his station. "Did you just ask why she's sucking?"

I smile a bit again, stealing a glance Freddie's way.

"No, you boob," Carly says, her eyes hitting the ceiling.

"Did you just call me a boob?" Freddie chuckles, thus making me chortle along with him. "Who randomly insults someone with a word referring to a squishy part of the female anatomy?"

Carly rolls her eyes for the millionth time and smiles.

Freddie moves from his station, tripping over the same wire again. I laugh, thinking he did it intentionally.

He looks up at me for the first time tonight, a fierce look sending a shudder down my spine. "You know, I hate it when you laugh at me, Sam."

"You know," I mock,** "I Hate It When You Make Me Laugh."**

**

* * *

**

I lie in my bed, unmoving. Wondering about how painfully obvious it was that Freddie Benson wasn't really ever my friend. I mean, really, how could he?

I confided in him, I told him the truth. And then, for no reason at all, I see him kissing her. That girl whose nose I'd broken. He broke away from the kiss when he spotted me. He tried calling me and running after me. He said he wanted to explain.

I couldn't stay there. I just turned around and ran. As fast as my legs would take me. I heard him calling me again. Or at least I thought I did. I could have been imagining it. He's called my mobile so many times that I decided to just turn the stupid thing off.

I've been lying here for a while now, crying in my empty room in this empty house about my - thanks to Freddie - now empty life. And to think, it was only two days ago that we made up and became friends again.

It was my Monday back to school, and I was well rested and perfectly happy with the new little black dot added to my permanent record.

The day was almost over. I only had a class and a half left.

I wish I had stayed in that stupid History class. Then I wouldn't have seen the two of them together. Everything would be all right, and in order. I'd be the tough Sam, and Freddie would be my geek friend and everything would be in synch. Everything would be in harmony with the way things are supposed to be.

I wouldn't be lying here, wanting so badly to cut off Fredward Benson's head with a dull cutting instrument. Like one of those plastic knives. I wouldn't be counting the ways I could hurt him, the ways I could make him pay for smarting me like this.

I know exactly what I'd say:

"I hate it when you make me hurt, and** Even Worse When You Make Me Cry…"**

**

* * *

**

"Hey, Sam. It's Freddie again. If you get this call me back." I hang up the phone and slap it against my face.

That's about the sixteenth, maybe seventeenth message I've left on her phone in the past two hours. I know, it seems stalkerish and a little creepy, but I'm worried. She saw Viola, that girl that she beat the snot out of, kiss me. She completely freaked out.

I didn't even want Viola to kiss me; I mean I don't even know the girl. All I know is she said something cross to Sam that made her lash out and break her nose. I mean, one minute the two of us (me and Viola) are talking about Bio Lab, and the next I spot Sam around the corner. After that all I remember is Viola glomping me.

I tried to talk to Sam, but she just ran from me. She looked, well, a little shattered. Like when I made her cry before. On the fire escape. I hate knowing that I hurt her. Almost as much as I hate not being able to talk to her or hang out with her.

If I grovel do you think she'd listen to me? Should she listen to me? I mean, this is a girl that Sam doesn't like, and as one of her best friends I'm supposed to honor that by not dating her.

I look at the clock, and sigh - it's 12:08 AM.

An hour passes and my phone rings. I rush to get it, "Hello?"

"Frantic much?" Sam says on the other end.

I sigh, relieved to hear from her. Relieved to hear that she doesn't completely hate me.

"I've… I mean…" I sigh, trying to better collect my thoughts. **"I Hate It When You're Not Around, And The Fact That You Didn't Call."**

**

* * *

**

I smile at Sam, rubbing my thumb across her cheek, taking in her smell, and the feel of her skin on mine.

"I hate the way you make me love you, Sam," I whisper, kissing the part of her neck that almost leads up to her chin, receiving a shiver from my newly acquired girlfriend.

"I hate the way you make me giddy…" I smile up at Freddie, wrapping my arms around his neck, pulling his face closely to mine. **"But Mostly I Hate The Way I Don't Hate You."**

I smile at Sam's little quip, **"Not Even Close?"**

I feel a tinge of pink glow on my cheeks as Freddie beams down at me, **"Not Even A Little Bit."**

I look at him.

I look at her.

And we kiss_._

**Not Even At All…**


End file.
